.L4L 



i ^■■^ > 



PEES. HOPKINS'S DISCOURSE 



COMMEMOKATIVE OF 



AMOS LAWRENCE. 



4 .»»— ► 







Class. 
Book. 



AA 



SMITHSONIAN DEPOSIT 



7>} 



DISCOURSE 



COMMEMORATIVK OF j2» ^ V 



AMOS LAWRENCE, 



DELIVERED BY REQUEST OF THE STUDENTS, 



CHAPEL OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE, 



FEBRUARY 21, 1853. 



BT 

MARK HOPKINS, D. D. iS^^^' '< 

PRESIDENT OP THE COLLEGE. iC* 



' MB j^ y 



PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS. 

BOSTON: 

PRESS OF T. R. MARVIN. 

1853. 



F^9 



z 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by 

T. R. Marvin, 

In the Clerk's OflSce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



DISCOUESE. 



JOB XXIX. 11-13. 



■WHEN THE EAR HEARD ME, THEN IT BLESSED ME; AND -VVHEN THE EYE SAW 
ME, n GAVE WITNESS TO ME ; BECAUSE I DELIVERED THE POOR THAT 
CRIED, AND THE FATHERLESS, AND HIM THAT HAD NONE TO HELP HIM. 
THE BLESSING OF HIM THAT WAS READY TO PERISH CAME UPON ME, AND 
I CAUSED THE WIDOW's HEART TO SING FOR JOY. 

The patience of Job, in connection with such 
signal afflictions, has, in some measure, drawn atten- 
tion from the general excellence of his character. 
That patience was no isolated virtue, having its root 
in some special aptitude for it of the constitution ; 
but a manifestation, under varied circumstances, of 
that rational and central excellence that had shone 
forth under a different form in prosperity. It was 
but the circling round to us of the completed orb 
of his character. Not from his conduct in affliction, 
but in prosperity, it was, that he was called by God 
' a perfect and an upright man.' Scarcely, if at all, has 
the world shown a finer example of all that goes to 
make up a complete manhood — of vivid and refined 
feeling, of elevated and tender sentiment, of enlarged 
benevolence, of parental faithfulness, of intellectual 

(3) 



power in the high form of genius, and of an exalted 
religious character. 

Up to the time mentioned in the history, these 
excellences had been manifested in connection with 
high distinction in life, with great wealth, and unin- 
terrupted prosperity. God had, as it is said, ' made 
an hedge about him, and about his house, and about 
all that he had on every side.' He had ' blessed the 
work of his hands,' and ' his substance was increased 
in the land ; — so that this man was the greatest 
of all the men of the east.' 

Thus exalted and prosperous, he was, of course, 
subject to the usual temptations of pride, and vanity, 
and voluptuousness, and avarice. But these he re- 
sisted. He did not for a moment forget his great 
moral relations to the Creator and to his fellow-crea- 
tures. He abused no power intrusted to him ; and 
in the acquisition^ the right estimate^ and the right 
use of property^ he set an example for the world. 

There is no indication that he was the possessor 
of hereditary power, or that he had any position or 
advantage that was not due, under tlie blessing of 
God, to his own exertions and force of character. 
But that his wealth was of his own acquisition is 
clearly indicated by what is said of God's having 
blessed the work of his hands, and of his substance 
as increased in the land ; also where he says, " Be- 
cause mine hand had gotten much," showing that it 
was his own hand that had gotten it. 



5 

And this wealth he acquired honestly. No part 
of it was gained by any process of which any one 
could complain. No furrow turned for him could 
bear witness against him, either that the soil was 
dishonestly acquired, or that the wages of the laborer 
were withheld. " If," says he, triumphantly, when 
the unjust suspicions of his friends wrung from him 
his vindication, — " if my land cry against me, or that 
the furrows likewise thereof complain ; if I have eaten 
the fruits thereof without money, or have caused the 
owners thereof to lose their life ; let thistles grow in- 
stead of wheat, and cockle instead of barley." Nor 
did he, as is too often done, either gain or save any 
thing by any form of hard dealing with his servants 
or dependants. How noble and solemn is his recog- 
nition of their claims to equal justice ! •" If," says 
he, " I did despise the cause of my man servant, or 
of my maid servant, when they contended with me, 
what then shall I do when God riseth up ? and when 
he visiteth, what shall I answer him'? Did not he 
that made me in the womb make him ? and did not 
one fashion us in the womb ] " 

Having thus acquired his property rightfully, he 
saw its true relations to human life, and placed upon 
it no undue estimate. Between the idolatry of wealth 
and of the other creatures of God he made no dis- 
tinction. " If," says he, " I have made gold my hope, 
or have said to the fine gold, Thou art my confidence ; 
if I rejoiced because my wealth was great, and 



because mine hand had gotten much ; if I beheld the 
sun when it shined, or the moon walking in bright- 
ness ; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my 
mouth hath kissed my hand, — this also were an 
iniquity to be punished by the Judge ; for I should 
have denied the God that is above." 

And the property thus acquired, and thus esti- 
mated, he knew how to use. He employed it in 
establishing his children " about him," who seem to 
have lived in harmony, and to have been to him a 
source of great comfort. He employed it also in 
sustaining the bountiful hospitality of the east. 
" The stranger," says he, " did not lodge in the 
street, but I opened my doors to the traveller." And 
especially did he employ his wealth in providing 
for the wants of the poor. "If," says he, "I have 
withheld the poor from their desire, or have caused 
the eyes of the widow to fail ; or have eaten my 
morsel myself alone, and the fatherless hath not 
eaten thereof ; if I have seen any perish for want of 
clothing, or any poor without covering ; if his loins 
have not blessed me, and if he were not warmed with 
the fleece of my sheep ; if I have lifted up my hand 
against the fatherless, wlicn I saw my help in the 
gate, — then let mine arm fall from my shoulder blade, 
and mine arm be broken from the bone." 

Of such a man it might well be expected that he 
could say, as he says in the text, " When the ear 
heard me, then it blessed me ; and when the eye saw 



me, it gave witness to me ; because I delivered the 
poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that 
had none to help him. The blessing of him that 
was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused 
the widow's heart to sing for joy." 

These words, thus spoken by Job, could have been 
applied to themselves by few men who have since 
lived, more appropriately than by a distinguished 
Benefactor of this College, who has recently been 
taken from the earth. It is known to his friends 
that Mr. Lawrence stood in the first rank among 
men in those qualities, both of the head and of the 
heart, that adorn humanity, and to some of these I 
may hereafter refer ; but he was known to the public 
chiefly for his acquisition^ his estimate, and his use of 
wealth. With an integrity as unsullied as that of 
Job in the acquisition of property, and with a heart 
as large and a hand as open in its distribution, if 
we make allowance for the different length of human 
life, his charities were probably not less extensive. 

Among the men of great wealth who have died 
in this country, he stands, so far as I know, in some 
respects alone ; and rising as he did from moderate 
circumstances, there cannot but be involved in his 
course lessons of instruction, great principles demand- 
ing not only careful, but special attention in this day 
of the vast increase, the rapid acquisition, and the 
selfish and reckless expenditure of wealth. Perhaps 
one purpose for which he was raised up was to call 



attention to these lessons and principles. Perhaps 
the time may be near when higher and more rational 
views in regard to property and its uses shall prevail ; 
when numbers shall escape from that weary and 
monotonous round of mammon — the toilsome and 
careful accumulation, till death, of sums that gener- 
ally depress the manhood, and often ruin the charac- 
ter, of those for whom they are laid up; when it 
shall be seen that it is not money, but the ' love of 
money,' that is the ' root of all evil,' and that property 
is a great trust. Concerning all this, Mr. Law^rence 
made no new discovery, but he did what is often 
quite as important. He saw, as by intuition, great 
practical principles, and by embodying them in ac- 
tual life, he gave to some that had fallen much into 
desuetude the freshness and force of anew discovery. 
He did in his department and sphere what Howard 
and ]Mills did in theirs. 

Like most men in this country who have jDosscsscd 
great wealth, Mr. Lawrence was indebted for it to 
his own exertions. His parents were of the old Pu- 
ritan stock, and the formative influences of his child- 
hood were those of a religious New England flimily. 
His father shared deeply in the spirit and perils of 
'76. He belonged to a company of ' minute men ; ' and 
on the very day of his marriage the alarm was given, 
his company was called for, and he left his bride, and 
without returning, gave himself for months to the 
service of his country. He was a farmer, and a man 



9 

of standing and influence both in the town and in 
the church. Above poverty and dependence, he was 
yet unable to do more for his children than to give 
them the means of education accessible in their na- 
tive town, and place them in favorable positions to 
be the artificers of their own fortune. With the 
stern manliness that oftenest overlies the deepest and 
tenderest feelings, he showed them that he was will- 
ing to make any sacrifice for their good, and they 
reciprocated the feeling. 

At the usual age, Mr. Lawrence was placed in a 
store in Groton as a clerk. This clerkship he re- 
garded as the turning point of his life, and was wont 
to trace back his success to the course he then took. 
He was placed with a man past middle age, who had 
been long in business, and was supposed to be 
wealthy. This man spent the most of his time in 
the store, but did very little, employing several clerks. 
It was the usage in those days to 'treat' customers 
after they had traded, the clerks preparing the various 
mixtures, and often drinking with them. To this 
usage Mr. Lawrence confonned for a short time, but 
soon observed that the owner of the store generally 
showed before night that he had gone too far, and 
that the older clerks were fast following in his foot- 
steps. His mind was soon made up. Understanding 
perfectly the ridicule he should meet with, and w^hich 
for a time he did meet with in its fullest measure, 
he yet took at once the ground of total abstinence. 



10 

Such a stand, taken at such an age, in such circum- 
stances of temptation, before temperance societies had 
been heard of, or the investigations had been com- 
menced on wliich they were based, was a striking in- 
stance of that practical judgment and decision which 
characterized liim through life. About the same 
time, he came to a similar decision in regard to to- 
bacco, and never used it in any form. In the wisdom 
of his course on both these points he was confirmed by 
all his subsequent observation. The man in whose 
store he was, died a bankrupt and a drunkard ; and 
every one of those clerks, together with other young 
men in the village similarly situated, had long since 
found drunkards' graves. In a letter received from 
him last summer, which accompanied fifty copies of 
" Stories on Tobacco, by Uncle Toby," after stating 
that he had never used it, he says, " To this absti- 
nence from its use (and from rum) I owe, under 
God, my present position in society. Further, I have 
always given the preference, among such persons as I 
have employed for more than forty years past, to such 
as avoided rum and tobacco, — and my experience 
has been to confirm me that it is true wisdom to have 
done so. The evil is growing in a fearfully rapid ratio 
among us, and requires the steady course of respected 
and honored men to prevent its spread, by influen- 
cing the scliool children of our land against becoming 
its slaves." Who can tell the bearing upon his busi- 
ness of thus employing men of unclouded intellect, 



li 

and steady nerves, having the power of self-control 1 
"Who can tell how many young men, without know- 
ing the reason, failed to obtain a place which would 
have been to them a fortune 1 

At twenty-one, Mr. Lawrence went to Boston, not 
with the purpose of remaining, but to learn the fash- 
ions, and see how business was done there. This 
was in April, 1807. Instead, however, of returning 
to Groton, as he had intended, he was induced to ro 
main in Boston as a clerk. Here he so commended 
himself to his employers, by his energy and business 
talent, that they very soon offered him a place in 
the firm. Much to their surprise, and without any 
definite knowledge of their affairs, he declined the 
offer. He did not like their manner of doing busi- 
ness. Here, again, the result showed his sagacity. 
In less than six months they failed, and he was 
appointed by the creditors to take charge of the sale 
of the goods. This he did ; and in December went 
into business on his own account. 

He was now exposed to the temptations of a city. 
But he stood firm. His days were spent in business, 
and his evenings in useful reading. He avoided 
the appearance of evil, treading on no questionable 
ground ; and no stain or suspicion of vice ever rested 
upon him. 

Of his business career I know no particulars. I 
have never understood that he was, in the ordinary 
sense of that word, a fortunate man. His wealth 



12 

came to him by no lucky chances, but by a skill and 
an energy that commanded uniform and great suc- 
cess. His judgment was shown, not merely in the 
purchase of goods, and in the lines of business on 
which he entered, but also, as has been said, in his 
selection of agents, clerks, and partners; and in 
deciding whom he might safely trust. He made no 
bad debts. It is said there has been no man in Bos- 
ton who took hold of business Avith the same grasp 
and energy. Quick in his perceptions, deciding as 
by intuition, and prompt in action, he is said to have 
had in those days little patience with the slow, the 
inefficient, the dainty, or those who felt above their 
business. So energetic young men, in every depart- 
ment, are apt to feel. They think these things need 
not be. And perhaps they need not ; but in time 
they become more tolerant of them, finding, as the 
Saviour said of the poor, that we have them always 
with us. 

The first year his gains were small, but he dealt so 
promptly and honorably that his customers returned 
and brought others ; and thus the rills began to come 
in that formed the river. In a few years he placed 
himself at the head of a house that, for wealth and 
mercantile honor, was among the very first in Boston, 
and which continued so till the firm was dissolved 
by his death. 

For twenty-five years he continued in active busi- 
ness. At the end of that time, he was suddenly 



13 

prostrated by drinking cold water when heated. 
There seemed to be a paralysis of the stomach, and 
for many days he was not expected to recover. After 
that, he was subject to sudden attacks, which deprived 
him, sometimes for hours, of all consciousness. From 
that time, he was obliged to be most careful of his 
diet. His food was of the simplest kind, was eaten by 
weight, and for twenty years he sat down at no meal 
with his family. His attacks often came without 
warning; he expected to die, as he did, in one of 
them, and hence expressively called himself, in mili- 
tary phrase, ' a minute man.' From this time he 
gave no attention to the details of business, but re- 
mained the senior partner of the firm, giving counsel 
and general direction, and being consulted and relied 
on in all questions of difficulty and importance. 

In speaking of the acquisition of his property, 
and as indicating his sagacity and enterprise, it may 
be mentioned that Mr. Lawrence was among the 
earliest and most successful of those who engaged in 
manufactures. 

Of his estimate of property, and of the modes in 
which it can be made to contribute to the enjoyment 
of its possessor, and to human well being, we can 
judge only from the use that he made of it. 

It has been supposed by some that his habit of 
gi\ing largely commenced with his ill health ; but this 



14 

was by no means the case. It is known that it 
extended back to the period of his early prosperity, 
and kept pace with that. He had a sense of re- 
ligious obligation, and a benevolent heart ; and then, 
with the same sagacity that governed his business 
transactions, he perceived the tendency there is in 
accumulation to increase the love of money, and 
guarded against it. In his busiest days, he had 
pasted, in large letters, in his pocket book, passages 
of Scripture inculcating liberality, and the obliga- 
tion of good stewardship. 

But while this was so, we cannot suppose that his 
views were not modified by the loss of his health. 
Often struck down in a moment, and awaking to con- 
sciousness as from the sleep of death, and then re- 
maining for weeks so feeble that neither he nor his 
friends expected his recovery, he was led to look 
fully and calmly at death, and must have gained 
views of life and its ends which another discipline 
would not have given him. This was doubtless a 
part of God's preparation of him for the work he 
was to do, and he so regarded it. Thenceforth he 
lived to do good. 

When it was that he came to the determination 
not to increase his property I do not know. Nor do 
I know the whole amount of his charities. Probably 
that will never be known. I am, however, safe in 
saying, that, since 1840, his benefactions have not 
been less than five hundred thousand dollars. 



15 



This he did not dispense at random, nor yet by any 
rigid and inflexible system that could not be moulded 
and shaped by the calls and aspects of each new day. 
He wished to know his duty as a Christian man, and 
to do it, and to gratify his best affections. He aided 
family connections near and remote, and old friends 
and acquaintances. If any of them needed a few 
hundred dollars to help 'them over a difficult position, 
it was sure to come. But his sympathy was not lim- 
ited at all to kindred or acquaintance, or in any way 
narrowed by sect or party. He was a true man, in 
sympathy with suffering humanity, and was always 
glad — it gave him real pleasure — to find a worthy 
object of his bounty. He sought out such objects. 
He learned histories of reverses, and of noble struggles 
with adversity, that were stranger than fiction. Those 
thus struggling he placed in positions to help them- 
selves, furnishing them, if necessary, with sums from 
one hundred to a thousand dollars, or more, as freely 
as he would have given a cup of cold water. He 
visited almshouses, and hospitals, and insane asylums, 
and retreats for the deaf and dumb, and the blind, 
and became deeply interested in many of their in- 
mates. He was watchful of every thing needed there 
for comfort or for instruction, and his presence always 
carried sunshine with it. He distributed useful 
books. He aided genius, and encouraged promising 
talent. A true son of New England, he appreciated 
education, and gave his money and his influence to 



16 

extend it, and to elevate its standard in every grade 
of our institutions, from the primary school in Bos- 
ton to the College. Not only the Academy at Groton 
but several Colleges, and more particularly this Col- 
lege, were largely aided by him. 

Other persons have aided this College generously, 
and have our thanks and those of the public ; but 
he was its chief benefactor. With one exception,* 
he is the only person who has ever given the Col- 
lege, at any one time, a larger sum than one thousand 
dollars, and the only person who has thus given 
more than that to its unrestricted use. 

As your request that I should address you on this 
occasion had its origin in his benefactions to the Col- 
lege, some account of them will be expected. 

In October, 1841, the building known as the East 
College was burned. Needy as the institution was 
before, this rendered necessary an application to the 
legislature for funds, and when this failed, to the 
public at large. 0\ving to a panic in the money 
market, this application was but slightly responded 
to, except in this town. In Boston the amount 
raised was less than two thousand dollars, and the 
largest sum given by any indi\ddual was one hundred 
dollars. This sum was paid by Mr. Lawrence, who 
was applied to by a friend of the College ; and this, it 
is believed, was the only application ever made to 

* Woodbridge Little, Esq., who gave $2,500, and bequeathed $3,200, 
to aid indigent and pious young men. 



17 



him on its behalf. This directed his attention to the 
wants of the College, but nothing more was heard 
from him till January, 1844. At that time, I was 
delivering a course of the Lowell Lectures in Boston, 
when his son, Mr. Amos A. Lawrence, called and 
informed me that his father had five thousand dollars 
which he wished to place at the disposal of the Col- 
lege. As I was previously but slightly acquainted 
with Mr. Lawrence, and had had no conversation 
with him on the subject, this was to me an entire 
surprise ; and embarrassed as the institution then was 
by its debt for the new buildings, the relief and en- 
couragement which it brought to my own mind, and 
to the minds of others, friends of the College, can 
hardly be expressed. Still, this did not wholly re- 
move the debt. On hearing this casually mentioned, 
he said, if he had known how we were situated, he 
thought he should have given us more ; and the fol- 
lowing July, without another word on the subject, 
he sent me a check for five thousand dollars. This 
put the College out of debt, and added two or three 
thousand dollars to its available funds. 

In January, 1846, he wrote, saying he wished to 
see me ; and on meeting him, he said his object was 
to consult me about the disposition of ten thousand 
dollars, which he proposed to give the College. He 
wished to know how I thought it would do the most 
good. I replied at once, " By being placed at the 
disposal of the trustees, to be used at their discre- 



18 

tion." He said, " Very well ; " and that was all that 
passed on that pomt. So I thought, and knowing 
his simplicity of character and singleness of purpose, 
I felt no embarrassment in making that reply. Here 
was a beautiful exemplification of the precept of the 
Apostle, " He that givetli, let him do it with simpli- 
city." Such a man had a right to have for one of 
his mottoes, " Deeds, not words." This was just 
what was needed — not all that was needed, but it 
gave us some breadth and enlargement, and was a 
beginning in what it had long been felt must sooner 
or later be undertaken — the securing of an available 
fund suitable as a basis for such an institution. 

His next large gift was the library. This came 
from his asking me, as I was riding with him the 
following winter, if we wanted any thing. Nothing 
occurred to me at the time, and I replied in the 
negative ; but the next day I remembered that the 
trustees had voted to build a library, provided the 
treasurer should find it could be done for twenty-five 
hundred dollars. This I mentioned to him. He 
inquired what I supposed it would cost. I replied, 
five thousand dollars. He said at once, " I will give 
it." With his approbation, the plan of a building 
was subsequently adopted that would cost seven 
thousand dollars, and he paid that sum. 

A year or two subsequently, he inquired of me the 
price of tuition here, saying he should like to connect 
Groton Academy with Williams College; and he 



19 

paid two thousand dollars to establish four scholar- 
ships for any who might come from that institution. 

His next gift was the telescope, which cost about fif- 
teen hundred dollars. The history of this would in- 
volve some details which I have not now time to give. 

In 1851, accompanied by Mrs. Lawrence, he made 
a visit here. This was the first time either of them 
had seen the place. In walking over the grounds, 
he said they had great capabilities, but that we needed 
more land ; and authorized the purchase of an adja- 
cent piece, of four acres. This purchase was made 
for one thousand dollars ; and if the College can 
have the means of laying it out, and adorning it 
suitably, it will, besides furnishing scope for exercise, 
be a fit addition of the charms of culture to great 
beauty of natural scenery. 

In addition to these gifts, he has, at different times, 
enriched the library with costly books, of the expense 
of which I know nothing. Almost every thing we 
have in the form of art was given by him. 

In December, 1845, I received a letter from him, 
dated the 22d, or ' forefathers' day,' which enclosed 
one hundred dollars, to be used for the aid of 
needy students, in those emergencies which often 
arise. This was entirely at his own suggestion, and 
nothing could have been more timely or appropriate 
in an institution like this, where so many young men 
are struggling to make their own way. Since that 
time, he has furnished me with, at least, one hundred 



20 



dollars annually for that purpose, and he regarded 
this expenditure with much interest. 

Thus, in different ways, Mr. LaAvrence had given 
to the College between thirty and forty thousand dol- 
lars, and he had expressed the purpose, if he should 
live, of aiding it still further. 

Understanding, as he did, the position and wants 
of this College, he sympathized fully with the trustees 
in their purpose to raise the sum of fifty thousand 
dollars, and at the time of his death was exerting a 
most warm-hearted and powerful influence for its ac- 
complishment. In reference to this great effort, we 
feel that a strong helper is taken away. 

The aid which Mr. Lawrence thus gave to the 
College was great and indispensable, and probably no 
memorial of him will be more enduring than what he 
has done here. By this, being dead, he yet speaks, 
and will continue to speak in all coming time. From 
him will flow down enjoyment and instruction to 
those who shall walk these grounds, and look at the 
heavens through this telescope, and read the books 
gathered in this library, and hear instruction from 
teachers sustained wholly or in part by his bounty. 
Probably he could not have spent this money more 
usefully, and there is reason to believe that he could 
have spent it in no way to bring to himself more en- 
joyment. The prosperity of the College was a source 
of great gratification to him, and he said, more than 
once, that he had been many times repaid for what 



21 

he had done here. That he should have thus done 
what he did unsolicited, and that he, and, I may add, 
his family, should have continued to find in it so 
much of satisfaction, is most grateful to my own 
feelings, and must be so to those of every friend of 
the College. In doing it, he seemed to place himself 
in the relation, not so much of a patron of the Col- 
lege, as of a sympathizer and helper in a great and 
good work. 

Having thus spoken of the use of his property by 
Mr. Lawrence, I observe that it was distinguished by 
the three characteristics, which seem to me essential 
to the most perfect accomplishment of the ends of 
benevolence ; and that in two of these he was pre- 
eminent. 

The first of these is, that he gave the money in his 
lifetime. No man, I presume, has lived on this con- 
tinent, who has approximated him in the amount 
thus given ; and in this course there are principles 
involved which deserve the careful attention of those 
who would act conscientiously, and with the highest 
wisdom. There may, doubtless, be good reasons why 
property destined for benevolent uses should be re- 
tained till death, and he is justly honored who then 
gives it a wise direction ; but giving thus cannot fur- 
nish either the same test, or discipline of character, 
or the same enjoyment; nor can it always accom- 
plish the same ends. By his course, Mr. Lawrence 



22 

put his money to its true work long before it would 
have done any thing on the principle of accumula- 
tion, and to a work, too, to which it never could have 
been put in any other way. He made it sure also 
that that work should be done, and had the pleasure 
of seeing its results, and of knowing that, through 
it, he became the object of gratitude and affection. 
So doing, he showed that he stood completely above 
that tendency to accumulate which seems to form 
the chief end of most successful business men, and 
which, unless stronsrlv counteracted, narrows itself 
into avarice as old age comes on, almost with the cer- 
tainty of a natural law. He did stand completely 
above this. No one could know him without per- 
ceiving that in his giving there was no remnant of 
grudging or of reluctance; that he gave not only 
freely, but with gladness, as if it were the appropri- 
ate action of a vital energy. And in so doing, and 
in witnessing the results, and in the atmosphere of 
sympathy and love thus created, there was a test, and 
a discipline, and an enjoyment, as well as a benefit 
to others, that could have been reached in no other 
way. 

The second peculiarity in the bounty of Mr. Law- 
rence, and in which he was preeminent, was the 
personal attention and sympathy which he bestowed 
with it. He had in his house a room where he kept 
stores of useful articles for distribution. He made 
up the bundle, he directed the package. No detail 



23 

was overlooked. He remembered the children, and 
designated for each the toy, the book, the elegant gift. 
He thought of every want, and was ingenious and 
happy in devising appropriate gifts. In this attention 
to the minutest token of regard, while, at the same 
time, he could give away thousands like a prince, I 
have known no one like him. And if the gift was 
appropriate, the manner of giving was not less so. 
There was in this the nicest appreciation of the feel- 
ings of others, and an intuitive perception of delicacy 
and propriety. These were the characteristics that 
gave him a hold upon the hearts of many, and made 
his death really felt as that of few other men in 
Boston could have been. In these we find not a little 
of the utility, and much of the beauty, of charity. 
Even in his human life, man does not live by bread 
alone, but by sympathy, and the play of reciprocal 
affection ; and is often more touched by the kindness 
than by the relief Only this sympathy it is that can 
establish the right relation between the rich and the 
poor, and the necessity for this can be superseded by 
no legal provision. This only can neutralize the 
repellent and aggressive tendencies of individuals 
and of classes, and make society a brotherhood, 
where the various inequalities shall work out moral 
good, and where acts of mutual kindness and help- 
fulness may pass and repass as upon a golden chain, 
during a brief pilgrimage and scene of probation. 
It is a great and a good thing for a rich man to set 



24 

the stream of charity in motion, to employ an agent, 
to send a check, to found an asylum, to endow a 
professorship, to open a fountain that shall flow for 
ages ; but it is as diflerent from sympathy with present 
suffering, and the relief of immediate want, as the 
building of a dam to turn a factory by one great 
sluiceway, is from the irrigation of the fields. Both 
ought to be done. By Mr. Lawrence both were 
done. 

The third characteristic referred to, of the bounty 
of Mr. Lawrence, was, that he gave as a Christian 
man, — from a sense of religious obligation. Not 
that all his gifts had a religious aspect. He gave 
gifts of friendship and of affection. There was a 
large enclosure where the affections walked foremost, 
and where, though they asked leave of Duty, they 
yet received no prompting from her. Whether he 
always drew this line rightly, whether in the measure 
and direction of his charities he was always right, 
whether so much of diff"usion and individuality was 
wise, it is not for me to say. Certain it is, that this 
form of charity holds a place in the church, now, less 
prominent relatively than it did in the early ages ; 
and it may be that the proportions of Christian char- 
acter, in portions of the church, need to be remod- 
elled and recast in this respect. These are ques- 
tions for each individual. It is sufficient to know 
that ]\Ir. Lawrence looked the great doctrine of 
stewardship full in the face, and prayed earnestly 



25 

over it, and responded to it practically as few have 
done. 

This is what is chiefly needed by us all, as intrusted 
by God with our various gifts and means of influence. 
This it is that is needed by men of wealth. The 
feeling of the absolute ownership of property, and 
of the full right of its disposal within the range of 
human law, is entirely different from that of steward- 
ship — of a trust held under another, and to be admin- 
istered with reference to his will. This position is 
one which the man of wealth is most slow to take. 
Every natural feeling resists it. But not till this 
position is taken will the man himself find his true 
place, or wealth its true uses, or the wealthy them- 
selves the highest and the appropriate blessedness 
which it can confer. 

That Mr. Lawrence took this position, will ap- 
pear by an extract from one of his letters, " If," 
he writes, " by the consecration of my earthly pos- 
sessions to some extent, I can make the Christian 
character practically more lovely, and illustrate, in 
my own case, that the highest enjoyments here are 
promoted by the free use of the good things intrusted 
to us, what so good use can I make of them ? I feel 
that my stewardship is a very imperfect one, and that 
my use of these good things might be extended prof- 
itably to myself" 

Hitherto wealth has been a great corrupter. It 
has inflamed the passions, and narrowed the heart, 



26 



and made it sordid. It has been harder for a rich 
man to enter into the kingdom of heaven than for a 
camel to go through the eye of a needle. The pro- 
bation of wealth has been more perilous than that 
of poverty. But let this broad position of steward- 
ship be taken, and under it let the characteristics 
before mentioned come in ; let the rich man no 
longer reverse in its spirit the precept to do with his 
might what his hand findeth to do because there is 
no work in the grave, and refuse to do any thing till 
he goes there, and because he is going there ; let 
him hold always his own heart close to the beating 
heart of humanity, so that they shall throb with a 
common pulsation, — and these evils will vanish, and 
will bear away with them many of the chief evils of 
society. The man rich in this world will be " rich in 
good works, ready to distribute, willing to communi- 
cate." He will not do a vain work, that shall have 
no relation to the great plans of God ; and " at his 
end be a fool." He will lift up his eyes upon a 
world lying in wickedness, and in consequent suffer- 
ing, and will seek to remove the wickedness, and 
to relie"S'e the suffering. The accumulated and con- 
centrated water that had before carried desolation in 
its course, and left its channel dry and dusty, will 
now show a long track of verdure where it flows ; it 
will find its way to the roots of a thousand flowers, 
that shall cover the earth with their beauty, and fill 
the air with their perfume. 



27 

In what has now been said, some traits of the 
character of Mr. Lawrence have been indicated. 
Something more of him you may wish to know, and 
it may be proper for me to state ; but it must be 
with a painful sense of its inadequacy. Words and 
descriptions must fail to convey to others an impres- 
sion of what he was to his friends. This must 
always be so where the strength of a character lies 
so much as did his in the affections. You may 
give to the perished flower its botanical name and 
scientific description, but this is not to see it in 
its living beauty, and to enter the sphere of its fra- 
grance. 

Undoubtedly he was a man of great original pow- 
ers. On this point I have had but one opinion since 
knowing him. His mind was not speculative, dis- 
cursive, metaphysical ; but in the high moral quali- 
ties, in decision and energy, in intuitive perception 
and sound practical judgment, in the sensibilities 
and affections, and in the imagination, he was great. 
Like all remarkable men who are not one-sided, he 
had large faculties, which found their harmony in 
their conflict, or rather in their balance. He was 
quick and tender in his feelings, yet firm ; ardent in 
his affections, yet judicious ; large in his gifts, yet 
discriminating ; he was a keen observer, yet kind in 
his feelings ; he had a fertile and shaping imagination 
— he built air castles, and they vanished, and then he 
built others ; but when he decided to build any thing 



28 

on the ground, it was well planned and promptly 
finished. 

His tastes were natural and simple, his habits 
plain, and his fccliugs always fresh, genuine, and 
youthful. Not even the smell of the fire of pros- 
perity had passed on him. He shunned notoriety. 
He had a strong repugnance to all affectation, and 
pretence, and misplaced finery. A young man with 
rings on his fingers had small chance of employment 
or favor from him. He was impatient of talk when 
action was called for, and of all attempts to substi- 
tute talk for action. 

His command over the English language, especially 
in writing, indicated his power. Style is no mechan- 
ical product, that can be formed by rules, but is 
the outgrowth and image of the mind ; and his had 
often great felicity and strength. When he wrote 
under the impulse of his feelings, he seemed to 
impregnate the very paper, and make it redolent of 
them. 

He loved nature, and instead of becoming insensi- 
ble to it as years came on, it seemed rather to open 
upon him like a new revelation. It was full of life 
and of teaching, and the charms of natural beauty 
were heightened by those associations which his quick 
imagination connected with its objects and scenes. 
After the death of two of his children, he says, 

" Dear S , and E , speak in words without 

sound through every breeze, and in every flower, and 



29 

in the fragrance of every perfume from the fields or 
the trees." Years ago, after a long confinement, 
with little hope of recovery, he visited, when first 
able to get out, the Panorama of Jerusalem, then 
on exhibition in Boston, and remained there till 
the scene took full possession of his mind. Shortly 
after, on a fine day, he rode out to Brookline ; 
and as returning health threw over those hills a 
mantle of beauty that he had never seen before, they 
were -immediately associated in his mind with the 
Panorama of Jerusalem, and then with the glories of 
the Jerusalem above. This association was indisso- 
luble, and he would take his friends out to see his 
' Mount Zion.' In 1850, he says, " It really seems to 
me like the sides of Mount Zion, and that I can cling 
to them as I view them." 

Soon after the death of his youngest son, a storm 
rent a large bough from one of the oaks that shel- 
tered his grave. The oak bled, and when he saw it, 
he applied it to himself The next time he visited 
Mount Auburn, the gardener had removed all appear- 
ance of injury, and covered the wound with what 
seemed to be bark ; and he fancied that the remaining 
portions of the tree had now a more vigorous growth. 
This thrilled him — it was a sermon, and his appli- 
cation of it will be seen in the following extract : 
" And then again the calls, as I visit Mount Auburn, 
speak to me with an eloquence that no tongue can 
equal, when I see the old oak holding its head erect, 



30 

its opposite branches more extended ; its leaves have 
been greener, larger, and more numerous, as its whole 
nourishment has gone into one side of the tree the 
past year, and thus have taught me that my precious 
ones secured, would encourage me to cheer on such 
as need the shade and encouragement this old oak 
can supply." 

Hear him again, at the close of 1851, associating 
natural beauty with social blessings.. " The closing 
of the old year," says he, " was like our western ho- 
rizon after sunset, bright and beautiful ; the opening 
of the new, radiant with life, light, and hope, and 
crowned with such a costume of love as few old 
fathers, grandfathers, and uncles can muster." 

Thus sensitive to the pulsations and suggestions 
of nature, it might be expected that he would be 
still more so within the sphere of the domestic affec- 
tions. He was ; and in these, few men have been as 
happy. His home was all that a home could be ; and 
then, like Job, he had his children about him, and 
his children's children. Bereaved of two of his 
children, he could still say, " And with all these pre- 
cious ones left, it seems as though I had sources of 
enjoyment that any man might be justified in craving. 
If I starve my body, I feed my spirit, and thus 
receive my full share of the good things of life. My 
greatest trouble is, not rendering due returns for 
these." This is a charmed circle with which the 
stranger may not intermeddle ; but perhaps a single 



31 

extract, showing his feelings on the return of his son 
from abroad, may be allowed. " The intelligence of 

son W 's arrival in New York preceded his arrival 

in Boston only one hour ; and the effect of the intel- 
ligence was like the gas which is called laughing gas, 
only with me it was crying. In truth, it was more 
than I could stand ; and I allowed nature fair play, 
and cried, and gave utterance to my feelings aloud 
and alone, as I did not wish my wife to know how it 
was with me. By the time W came, I was self- 
possessed in a good degree, and for three days I have 
lived, in the matter of enjoyment, full three months." 
With such avenues of enjoyment open, though 
sometimes pitied as an invalid, he might well be, as 
he was, a most cheerful and happy man. As inti- 
mated in an extract above, his abstemiousness may 
have made him more keenly alive to the higher 
sources of enjoyment, and even in sensitive good he 
did not regard himself as a loser. " If," says he, 
" your young folks want to know the true meaning 
of epicureanism, tell them to take some bits of coarse 
bread, (one ounce and a little more,) soak them in 
three gills of coarse meal gruel, and make their din- 
ner of them and nothing else, beginning very hungry 
and leaving off more hungry. The food is delicious, 
and such as no modern epicureanism can equal." 

But man has wants deeper than can be supplied 
by wealth, or nature, or domestic affections. His 



32 

great relations are to his God and to eternity. This 
Mr. Lawrence felt, and he was a deeply religious 
man. His trust in God, and his hope of salvation 
through Christ, were the basis of his character. He- 
believed in the providence of God as concerned in 
all events, and as discriminating and retributive in 
this world. He felt that he could trust God in his 
providence where he could not see. " The events of 
my life," he writes, " have so far been ordered in a 
way to make me feel that I know nothing at the 
time except that a Father rules ; and his discipline, 
however severe, is never more so than is required." He 
believed in the Bible, and saw rightly its relation to 
all our blessings. " What," he writes again, " should 
we do if the Bible were not the foundation of our 
system of self-government 1 and what will become of 
us when we wilfully and wickedly cast it behind 
us '? " He read the Bible morning and evening in 
his family, and prayed with them ; and it may aid 
those who are acquainted with the prayers of Thorn- 
ton, in forming a conception of his religious charac- 
ter, to know that he used them. Family religion lie 
esteemed as above all price ; and when he first learned 
that a beloved relative had established family wor- 
ship, he wept for joy. He distributed religious books 
very extensively, chiefly those of the American Tract 
Society and of the Sunday School Union. He be- 
lieved in revivals of religion, and prayed for them. 
In 1848, he wrote, " This religious awakening among 



33 



your college students is among the blessings that our 
Father vouchsafes to his servants who labor faith- 
fully in their work, and I can see his hand as plainly 
in it as though it was thrust before my face as I write 
this sentence. Let us, then, bless his holy name, and 
thank him as disciples and followers of Christ the 
beloved, and urge upon these young men to come 
forward as ' doves to their windows.' If my work 
and my trusteeship have in any manner been instru- 
mental in this good work in your College, it will be 
matter of grateful thanksgiving while I live." Of 
the religious movement in Boston, in 1849, he says, 
" Our dead Unitarianism of ten or fifteen years ago 
is stirred up, and the deep feelings of sin, and salva- 
tion through the Beloved, are awakened where there 
seemed to be nothing but indifference and coldness, 
and my hope and belief is, that great good will fol- 
low." Still later he says, " And now let us turn to 
matters of more importance — the awakening of the 
young men of your College to their highest interest, 
the salvation of their souls. I have been moved to 
tears in reading the simple statement of the case, and 
I pray God to perfect the good work thus begun." 
Of creeds held in the understanding, but not influen- 
cing the life, he thought little ; and the tendency of 
his mind was to practical rather than doctiinal views. 
He believed in our Lord Jesus Christ as a Saviour, 
and trusted in him for salvation. He was a man of 
habitual prayer. The last time I visited him, he said to 



34 



me that he had been restless during the night, and that 
the only way in which he could " get quieted was by 
getting near to God ; " and that he went to sleep 
repeating a prayer. During the same visit, he spoke 
strongly of his readiness, and even of his desire, to 
depart. He viewed death with tranquillity, and hope, 
and preparation, for it was habitual with him. 

What need I say more'? At midnight the sum- 
mons came, — and his work was done. 

The vacancy caused by such a death is wide, and 
cannot be filled. It cannot be filled to afiection, to 
friendship, to those who were cheered and strength- 
ened by his sympathy and aid. If it can possibly be 
filled to this College, it cannot be to some of us. It is 
not now a branch from the old oak that is rent away ; 
itself is laid low, and those upon whose heads the 
sun of trouble " beats heavy," can no more find shel- 
ter under its broad branches. The vacancy cannot 
be filled ; but his name will stand high among the 
benefactors of the race, and his example and influ- 
ence will live through all time. 

The sphere of Mr. Lawrence and his line of life 
were different from those contemplated by the most 
of us. But success in life, in all departments, de- 
pends on the same general qualities ; and in these, as 
I have now spoken of them, he may well be an ex- 
ample to us. Especially would I ask you to go back 



35 

to that period when he was of the age of many of 
you, and when, as he uniformly said, the foundation 
of his prosperity was laid. Of this he had then no 
distinct foresight ; but when the lines of life that 
seemed almost parallel had diverged widely, he could 
see it, and could say, as he did, " The difference 
hetween doing exactly right and a little ivrong, 
makes all the difference between success and failure 
in lifer Oftener than young men suppose, when 
they know it not, their destiny is sealed by the pro- 
cesses and decisions of their own minds before they 
are twenty. How great and precious the results of 
such a life ! How different from those of a different 
course ! How striking that such consequences should 
depend on what was passing in the mind of a lad in 
a country store ! Who can estimate the capabilities 
wrapped up in any such lad \ Who, especially, can say 
of any one of you, what may be depending upon the 
course that he shall take from this time onward \ I 
feel, my friends, that this will take hold, not on 
time only, but on eternity ; and I entreat you to be 
wise. 

Let me add a single word on the position of young 
men in our Colleges whose facilities of education 
are thus furnished by a spirit of self-sacrifice, and 
enlightened patriotism, and Christian benevolence. 
It cannot be, my friends, that you are under no obli- 
gation to regard the spirit in which these are given, 
and to do your part in securing the results contem- 



36 

plated. Of this young men are too often reckless. 
They sometimes think that they pay for their educa- 
tion. No one pays for it. If paid for in money, few 
could afford it ; but for the sacrifices that have been 
made, and are making, in this cause, money cannot 
pay. There is in them a spirit of love that contem- 
plates high results, intellectual, moral, spiritual ; 
that yearns for these, and can be satisfied with noth- 
ing less. Such results must be realized in our insti- 
tutions, or they are a failure. Who, and what, then, 
is the young man, indolent, self-indulgent, profane, 
vicious, who can enter such an enclosure, and exhale 
an influence of disaster and of moral death 1 Only 
in and through you, my friends, with your intelli- 
gent and voluntary cooperation, can the results thus 
sought be secured. Who, then, will not Avork to- 
gether with these noble benefactors 1 Who will not 
be a co-worker with God \ 



^\^,\^J6] 



LfcJa'i2 



